


Camping Out

by baranduin



Category: Big Love
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night of Bill's death takes on a surreal campfire quality as the three sister-wives huddle together for human warmth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camping Out

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for the "loving the women that fandom hates fest."

It seemed natural that they all ended up in Barb’s house the night Bill died. There wasn’t even any discussion; everyone just moved about the three houses, gathering up clothes and diapers and baby powder and sippy cups and every little thing that they’d need. At one point Nicki collided with Margene in Barb’s doorway and they laughed a little. 

Barb came over to help pick up various and sundry items and Margene, still laughing a little, said, “It’s like we’re going on a big camp out.” She shook her head in that way she did with her head tilted just a little so that you knew she found something rueful and amusing.

Barb read the look and, instead of picking up any of the dropped things, stood up and opened her arms wide. “Welcome to the tent! I think I can get a fire going in a minute.”

Nicki said with a quaver in her voice, “I think I have some marshmallows back at my place.”

Then they all laughed again and continued the chores of gathering up the children and getting them to bed. No one minded sharing a bed. Years later, the grown-up Henrickson children remembered that night as one of strange comfort and that was because they had all huddled together and no one slept alone.

Barb did light a fire though not until the children were all in bed, and the three sister-wives were able to relax, that is relax some of their vigilance that had been so necessary around the children. And they relaxed enough to let the tears flow again, more naturally this time.

“He’ll always be with us,” Barb said, her face wet with tears and her mouth trembling with the effort to curve up.

“And we’ll be with him again some day.” Margene’s smile was steadier but the tears were pouring down her face and, to be honest, her nose was running but she still managed that look of radiance that tugged on everyone’s heart.

Even Nicki’s cold heart. “I don’t know.” The features on her face were twisted with grief but there were no tears from Nicki, not a one in all the hours since Bill had been ripped from them and they were all shocked to find their hearts still beating. Nicki repeated, “I don’t know,” and wrapped her arms around herself, holding tight, just tight, as though she were cold in spite of the warmth of the fire.

Margene shifted closer to Nicki on the couch. “What do you mean?”

Nicki looked up, as though her gaze could pierce right through the ceiling up into the sky and farther, seeking, seeking … “I don’t deserve it.”

Margene looked over to Barb, confused. 

And Barb, the first wife, not the only one (and how she was grateful for that fact at this horrible time) but the first one, turned toward Nicki to be closer and placed her hands tenderly on Nicki’s face. “Yes. You do. And remember. I know you and I say yes, you will be with Bill again just as we all will.” She leaned forward and kissed Nicki’s forehead. It wasn’t really the sort of thing Bill did (or the other male holders of the priesthood did) but it did seem right. No, not just right. It was necessary. The brush of loving lips against suffering flesh. 

It turned out it wasn’t only necessary, it was right, for then Nicki’s tears came, long and hard and bitter, the kind of tears that pour out from an unending stream, effortlessly and with a pain unlike any other.

“Nicki,” Margene said finally. “You can’t eat a toasted marshmallow and cry at the same time. And this one is so perfect, it’s got your name on it.”

So Nicki sat up, hiccupped a few times, eyed the marshmallow, which was indeed perfectly toasted with just enough almost burned bits to give it that little bite that softened the sugar, and opened her mouth. 

After they finished their marshmallows, the sister-wives banked the fire and went upstairs to bed, all three in Barb’s bed, no questions asked. 

When the first young Henrickson woke up the next morning, he woke up his half brother beside him and said, “You’re really here.”

“Yeah.”

“See if mom’s awake?”

“OK.”

They slipped out of bed, not waking their other half-brother who was still sound asleep, and padded through the hall to Barb’s room. They pushed open the door and stared at their three mothers lying tangled together in the bed, Barb in the middle. The noise of the door creaking open woke the three and they sat up.

The boy said, “It’s really true, isn’t it?” and started crying.

So the first day after Bill Henrickson’s murder began.


End file.
